


Life in 221B

by CalypsoFiremoon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: DEAL WITH IT, Everything is going to be a surprise!, F/M, Gen, Story is written in 2nd person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalypsoFiremoon/pseuds/CalypsoFiremoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are the newest addition to the Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson invited you to live in one of the flats for you two were good friends. After you move in, you meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson; just what will these two hooligans bring into your new life? And will they bring out some skeletons from your past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Screeching Owl

Life at 221B  
Chapter 1  
Screeching Owl

When Mrs. Hudson who was a dear friend of yours, contacted you about an available flat, you were ecstatic. You and Mrs. Hudson were very good friends. You have helped each other through out the years. You had just moved out of Dublin, trying to get away from home. You just couldn't bear to turn the sweet woman down when she had contacted you. 

You had already mad everything arranged for your things to be moved from you Father's house. You had not seen your Father for months and decided it was enough. The day that you moved in was hectic. You had so many books and papers to organize. Your furniture and bookcases already were inside the flat waiting for you to arrange them. You spent all afternoon and late into the evening organizing things. Finally, after a very long, exhausting day, you decided to make a cup of herbal tea and head for bed. Suddenly, you heard a loud banging down the hall. Then, a screeching noise that reminded you of a beginner playing a violin. 

"Who is playing the violin at this ungodly hour?" You muttered, checking your phone to read a few minutes until midnight. 

Even though you were unpresentable in sweat pants and a crop t-shirt, you stumbled out of your flat and into the hall. You made your way to the source of the sound. The screeching came from behind the door of the 221B flat. Frowning, you rubbed your tired eyes and knocked on the door a few times. The violin continued to play but a voice answered your knock.   
"John, would you get that?" A deep, velvety voice asked from inside the flat. 

"Yes Sherlock, I'll just drop what I'm doing and get the door." A sarcastic voice answered. 

"Oh, how lovely," you thought tugging your shirt down anxiously suddenly, self-conscious o your appearance. 

You heard shuffling noises around the violin. The door opened inwards to reveal a middle-aged, ex-military man with an unhappy look on his face. 

"It's almost midnight you know." You pointed out, rubbing your tired eyes. "Could you please cease the screeching owl?"

The man smirked. "Did you hear that Sherlock? She called you a screeching owl." He began to laugh and opened the door wider. "Come on in; welcome to Baker Street."

You smiled. You couldn't reject his offer for you were far to polite unlike your father. 

"Thank you," you replied, stepping inside and watched as the older man close the door. "I apologize for my indecency; I only just moved in today."

"Don't worry about it!" John grinned. "Tea?"

"No thank you." You replied a little stiffly. 

John paused at your short answer, but seemed to brush it off. He gestured for you to sit in a black couch, which you obliged. You looked around the flat and saw a violin bow on the coffee table, a human skull on the mantle, and many other odd things inside the flat. But it seemed to fit and feel homely. 

"Sherlock, come meet our guest." John said, crossing his legs after he sat in a red chair in the living area. 

You looked up to see a tall, skinny handsome man emerge from the kitchen. He wore a tight purple dress shirt, and sleek black trousers. He had black, bouncy curls that framed his sharply defined face. He was simply the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. 

"Sherlock Holmes," you breathed out, unconscious of your own speaking. 

"You've heard of me?" He asked, his rich voice running over you. His hands gripped the neck of a violin tightly. 

You nodded, not bothering to elaborate. 

"I don't think we caught your name." John interjected, breaking you out of your haze. 

"Oh," you exclaimed, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs. "I'm Sophia, Sophia Pier." The first name wasn't a lie. It was just your last name. But what they don't know won't hurt them, right?

"I'm John Watson," the military man introduced himself. "You already know Sherlock."

You nodded, briefly unable to think before speaking.

"That's a beautiful violin. May I see it?" You asked suddenly, holding out your hand towards the beautiful human. 

Sherlock pressed his lips together. He gripped the violin neck tighter. Slowly, but surly he made his way over to you and handed the violin. 

You grinned wide. You took the violin by the neck base and brushed your fingers with Sherlock's making you blush a little. Once you had it to yourself, you began plucking at the strings to tune them. You tuned the violin to your liking to Sherlock and John's surprise. You picked up the bow from the coffee table and pointed to the skull on the mantle with the bow. 

"That's a skull," you muttered, placing the black piece under your chin. 

"Friend of mine," Sherlock quipped, seeming to have recovered from earlier. 

"I have a turtle shell." You quip back and began to play. 

You had to stand when you started, for you were not used to playing the violin sitting down. You smiled the entire time. The song you chose to play was beautiful, and yet had a dark meaning. You loved it. When you finished, you sat back down. You handed the violin back to Sherlock and he took it gratefully. 

"What song was that?" John inquired. "I'm not sure I've heard it before."

"No, I suspect you wouldn't." You laughed, leaning into the couch. "It's called Beneath A Moonless Sky. The song was written by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber. It's a beautiful song."

"Show music." Sherlock spat out, obviously biased.

"It still has meaning!" You argued, crossing your arms. You suddenly stood up making John stand up as well. "Thank you for your hospitality. I will take my leave now, gentleman."

You made your way to the door against John's protests and Sherlock's unrelenting stare. 

"Oh, and if I play the piano too loudly, just let me know." 

You winked and scampered out of the flat. You ran back to your own flat with a large grin on your face. Oh, won't these two be so much fun?!


	2. Cleverly Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter you are finally getting the final pieces of your new life together. However, one nosy detective is about to barge in and destroy what life you've made for yourself.

Life in 221B  
Chapter Two:  
Hopelessly Caught

When you woke up the next morning, you were perfectly happy. A feeling that you have not felt in a long time. After taking a shower, you put on a Eperon d'Or dress that was designed by Hermes. If you inherited anything from your father it was expensive tastes. You had a quick breakfast and grabbed your laptop from the living area. After checking a few things, you heard a knock on the door. Frowning, you walked up to the door and opened it to discover Sherlock Holmes with a determined look on his face towering over you. 

"Who are you?" He demanded immediately stepping inside without an invitation. 

You huffed at his rudeness and slammed the door shut in irritation. You knew it was too early for your piano to be here. Why couldn't you have figured out it was Sherlock Holmes?

"I am Sophia Pier." You announced flustered. "You've got some nerve barging into my flat unannounced when I was just in yours last night." 

Sherlock paused and he finally looked at you up and down, studying your full person. 

"You are not Sophia Pier." Sherlock enunciated every word, making you flinch. "My brother found no traces of you identity. So, obviously, you are lying."

You sighed and hung your head. Sherlock smirked in triumph and crossed his arms expectantly. 

"If I tell you who I am will you swear not to tell anyone? Including you brother?" You pleaded, looking up at the detective with wide eyes. 

Sherlock rolled his own eyes and nodded dismissively. You smiled brightly and made your way to the kitchen. 

"Tea?" You offered, filling your teapot with water and loose leaf tea. 

Sherlock hummed and gazed around your flat. He stared at your collection of books which ranged from Albom to Hugo. 

"Have you read all of these?" Sherlock inquired, gesturing to your mini-library. 

"Yes I have," you replied nodding enthusiastically. "Hugo is my favorite." 

Sherlock moved on to your decorative items on your mantle. There were several rare books placed in the middle, with a polished turtle shell in one corner and a dark ceramic tea set in the other. When you began preparing a tray for tea, Sherlock finally sat down in a chair that was placed a few feet a way from the fireplace. You presented the tea to the detective and sat down on your couch. 

"Explain." Sherlock demanded after taking a sip of tea. 

"I am Sophia Moriarty." You announced.


	3. Explaining Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, you tell your full story to the one and only Sherlock Holmes, will he be able to cope with whom you really are? (Plus, the piano arrives today!) Hooray!

Previously in Chapter Two:

"I am Sophia Moriarty." You claimed, jutting out your chin proudly. 

Sherlock's eyes widened, but he didn't move from his seat. His fingers tapped slowly in a rhythm on the porcelain. 

"Explain," Sherlock demanded a few breaths later, his eyes bearing into yours. 

You cleared your throat, collecting your thoughts before beginning. 

"My father was never around. My mother had died in childbirth, and he left his body guard to babysit me twenty-four-seven. I was homeschooled by the best professors money could buy. I practically had to be independent all the time. I was never allowed to go outside. I only knew how to get here for I looked it up online the day beforehand. I got so fed up with being alone and never doing anything I wanted. So, I moved out as soon as I could without him noticing. He's got eyes and ears everywhere. I've hated the bipolar bastard for a long time." 

You looked to the side, surprised by your own bluntness. You hoped Sherlock would be able to keep your secret, but then again, his brother was the British Government. You couldn't hope for very long. Sherlock sighed and rose from his seat. You sat up stiffly, just as you were taught. You felt your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your hands shook anxiously and you noisily set your tea cup down on the coffee table. When you began to pull your hands back, Sherlock grabbed your wrists as quick as a snake's strike. You startled sharply. Your reflexes kicked in and you tried to twist your hands in order to pull back Sherlock's arms. But the detective was stronger than you anticipated, and he tightly held your wrists in place. Still in defensive mode, you jerked your shoulders wildly, desperate to break free; unsure if the arms holding you were friendly or unfriendly. 

"Sophia," Sherlock's voice broke your rapid-moving thoughts, and you stopped moving. 

"Good girl," Sherlock whispered in your ear. He started rubbing your shoulders gently. 

At first, you tensed at his touch. But as his hands moved slower and weren't producing pain, you began to relax. You sighed contently as Sherlock's hands started to lower down your body. You both jumped when someone knocked on your door loudly. You collected yourself and reluctantly walked toward the door and out of Sherlock's grasp. You opened the door to see a Chinese man straining with something behind his back. 

"Zhou!" You cried happily, maneuvering aside so the man could step inside. "Ni-hao!"

Zhou nodded in return, two other foreign men accompanied Zhou, the had finally brought your piano! It glistened red with golden pedals and polished keys. A gold Bosendorfer brand name was stamped on the front above the black and white keys. The men slowly made their way inside your flat. Sherlock made his way beside you to look at your instrument. He looked down at you in astonishment when he seemed to realize just what an important aspect that piano was in your life. Then, a fourth Chinese man entered with a red piano bench with a black leather cushion sewed onto it. 

"Where do you like?" Zhou asked when they were in the middle of the flat.

"Oh, over here please." You replied, grinning widely and gestured over to a cleared spot between two windows in the back of the flat. 

When the men finished moving your piano to your preference, they left after you had promised payment by the end of the week. After the door shut, you forgot about Sherlock and clapped your hands giddily. You sifted though a stack of papers you had on the kitchen counter muttering to yourself. Finally, you pulled out a folder of music, you pulled out The Feather Theme from Forrest Gump; written by Alan Silvestri. Sherlock cleared his throat from behind, startling you out of focus. 

"Will you be okay Sophia?" Sherlock asked, taking hold of your shoulders again. 

"Yes Sherlock," you replied breathlessly. 

"You've got good taste in music and books; what did I do to know who you are?" Sherlock mused. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as if sheltering you from an oncoming attacker. 

You stared off into space re-thinking over what he had just said. This was a self-proclaimed sociopath? You pushed your father out of your mind for a few precious moments in order to enjoy your new life.


	4. Not Forgotten in the Least

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Sherlock needs to go to Saint Bartholomew's hospital to run tests. On a whim, he decides to invite you. However, while you are at Saint Bart's, you encounter someone whom you wished to forget.

Sherlock hummed after a few seconds of embracing you. He seemed to glow while he held you. He sighed contently, and let you go to your disappointment. 

"I must be off." Sherlock announced. "Got some testing to do at St. Bart's hospital."

"Oh!" You exclaimed, trying to hide your disappointment. "Would you mind if I came with you?" 

Sherlock's lip twitched upwards. He huffed impatiently, and gave you one of his enigmatic stares.

"Sure, why not?" He asked himself. "I could always use another input." 

You grinned excitedly. You ran towards your bedroom to grab a handbag. Then you walked to the closet to slip on a pair of black Prada heels. You walked bag into your living room basking in the attention Sherlock was giving you. Sherlock looked your outfit up and down, then he smirked. He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow at you. 

"Your outfit shows just how much you hate your father." Sherlock smirked. 

"Just because I hate my father doesn't mean I can't use the money he graces me." You quipped, waltzing towards your bookshelf. "Will we be gone long?"

"Depends on how long Molly takes with the results." Sherlock rolled his eyes impatiently. 

You shook your head. You picked up a book that you could read in a few hours. You trailed behind Sherlock to 221B. The detective grabbed his large blue coat from the hook. John Watson sat in his appointed chair, sipping a cup of tea. His laptop sat upon his lap, and he typed with one finger irritably. 

"John, coming?" Sherlock asked, already halfway out the door. 

"Sure, where?" John asked, he startled when he spotted you. "Oh, hello Sophia." 

"Hello John!" You chirped, keeping an eye on Sherlock.

"Saint Bart's." Sherlock replied, already down the stairs. 

"Coming!" You and John cried out in unison, bounding down the stairs.


	5. Not Forgotten in the Least part 2

When you arrived at St. Bart's you hurried to follow behind Sherlock. His long legs were faster than yours, and it was hard to keep up. You eventually found him in a laboratory with a few microscopes, and basic lab equipment. You looked around the white lab as Sherlock prepared a microscope. Within several minutes of looking around, you were bored. You fiddled with another microscope. You spotted John sitting in a chair aside Sherlock waiting more patiently than yourself. 

"Read your book." Sherlock ordered, more than suggested. 

You unconsciously raised the book closer to your vision. Then you hesitated. Sherlock cast a glance in your direction before returning to his work. You took this as an order, and began to read. You flipped the page to the fifth chapter when the lab door opened. You looked up to see a pretty, but self-conscious woman enter in a white lab coat. 

"Hello Molly!" Sherlock greeted, and John said 'Hello' as well. 

You didn't look up from your book. You assumed the woman would go away. But she didn't. She giggled flirtatiously, and set down some petri dishes. She tossed her ponytail to the side, and finally noticed you. She looked at you up and down, and cocked her head. 

"Who's this?" Molly asked, gesturing to you. 

Sherlock looked up at you. You rose your head to look at her better. You realized she asked you something. You were so absorbed in your book you didn't hear her. 

"Oh, forgive me, I am." 

You were just about to introduce yourself when a man entered the lab behind Molly. You looked at him, and you dropped your book in surprise. It glided to the floor with a soft rustle before settling. You stared at the man who had just entered, clutching your stomach anxiously. You stared in disbelief as your father, James Moriarty grinned behind Molly. He wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans with his boxers poking through. To your disappointment, his hair was so slick it looked like he put in too much conditioner. 

"Oh hello Jim!" Molly greeted cheerfully, unaware of whom just came in. 

Sherlock watched you with an unrelenting stare. He couldn't figure out why you were reacting this way. What did you know that he did not? Your hands shook, and you slid down the counter to he floor. James Moriarty's head whipped to the noise. He froze completely. His whole façade broke. His face turned stony, and he stomped over to you. You raised your hands in surrender but to no avail. Your father created a fist, and he back-handed your cheek hard. 

"Hey! What are you doing?" John Watson cried, rising from his chair furiously. 

"Shut up!" Moriarty growled. "What the hell are you doing here?" He raised his fist to backhand you again. 

"Daddy, stop please!" You begged, tears threatening to rain down your cheeks. 

Sherlock's eyes widened. He rose sharply from his chair staring at the you and your father. He was desperately trying to figure out what was going on his head hurt. John looked at Sherlock unsure of what to do. But Sherlock was in the same mind-set as John. They were all completely dumfounded. 

"How did you get here?" Moriarty demanded. He picked you up by the back collar of your shirt tightly. 

"Daddy, I left." You replied, your mind a mess of fear, pain and anger. "I found my own flat, and I'm living fine on my own. Please, stay out of my business, and don't get Sebastian involved either. You know I don't like him." 

Your father's eyes blackened. He dropped you unceremoniously on the floor. He knelt down until you were staring into each other's eyes. 

"You will regret leaving me." Moriarty promised. He took one look at Sherlock before abruptly leaving. 

"Oh my god," Molly gasped out, shaking her head before scampering out of the room. 

"Who was that?" John Watson demanded, kneeling next to you to check your cheeks. 

"Daddy." You replied, letting the tears flow down your cheeks. 

John looked at Sherlock; the detective made his was way beside you. He looked at Joh to mentally ask for help. John laid a hand on your shoulder, and Sherlock followed suit. You didn't register the two men touching you until Sherlock shook your shoulder. You looked up at the detective with wet eyes. Sherlock's expression was so deep and caring, it was difficult for you to watch. The detective bit his lower lip, showing that he was over thinking everything. 

"I want to leave." You announced quietly, and you gripped Sherlock's hand. 

John nodded. He stood up groaning at the pain in his knees. He glanced at the clock, then did a double take. He swore aloud.

"I've got to run. Shift at the clinic; I'm sorry Sophia. Sherlock will have to take you home." He unconsciously saluted, then took off. 

Sherlock rose from his position. He offered you his hand. You looked up at him with red eyes. You started to reach out to him then hesitated. 

"I'll get you home." Sherlock promised, nodding his head. 

You nodded in return. You reached out to him confidently. He took both of your hands, and lifted you off the ground. He bent back down to retrieve your fallen book. He looked at the cover, then read the synopsis on the back page. The book was The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux. 

"You have good taste." Sherlock praised. "May I borrow this?" 

Sherlock looked like an excited child finding a new toy. He clutched the book tightly to his chest as if it would disappear the moment he let go. You smiled at him genuinely. You were happy for some reason to have his approval. You still held his hand, and his warmth spread through your whole body. 

"Of course," you replied. "You'll fly through it I'm sure."

Sherlock grinned back. You loved how it made his whole face turn upwards. You wondered what made him smile at you like that. You grabbed your handbag, and the two of you walked out of St. Bart's hand in hand.


	6. Exploring Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Sherlock drags you home. Unexpectedly he has a few things in store for you.

Life in 221B 

Chapter 7: Exploring Each Other 

By: Calypso Firemoon 

 

As soon as Sherlock pulled you through the apartment, he pressed you firmly against the door. Your eyed widened in surprise, struggling weakly against his vice grip. Sherlock grinned like a Cheshire cat. He leaned in slow, not averting his gaze off you. Your eyes fluttered closed as Sherlock Holmes kissed you. His kiss was warm, firm and beautiful. Your struggles ceased. He let one hand drift down your body memorizing it.

"Sherlock." You gasped when his lips left yours.

The detective smirked. He leaned forward kissing your neck right under your ear. You shivered, automatically leaning your head back. Sherlock kissed down your neck. You shivered each time his lips met your skin. He made you melt with desire with just a few kisses alike no one else had before. Sherlock nipped at your collarbone snapping you back into reality. He tugged at your blouse, careful not to rip it. Already having your arms up, Sherlock easily slipped it off. You flushed, looking anywhere but at the detective. He lifted your chin making you look into his eyes. 

"Do you trust me?" Sherlock inquired. It was almost as if he asked you if you trusted him.

"Yes," you replied breathless. 

Sherlock grinned. He kieed you full on the lips pulling you into his bedroom.


End file.
